Page 167 of Charlie

"What's wrong?" He tilts up my chin, his thumb caressing my jaw.

"I—" I swallow hard. "I helped Jack again."

Cam blinks, his midnight eyes almost black in the dim light. "And how do you feel about that?" he asks finally.

"How do you feel about it?" I ask, shoving my hands through my hair. "Why does it feel like I'm cheating on you?"

"Lach. All of our dicks touch every time we sleep with her. It's not a big deal."

I shake my head. "This was different. This morning was out of convenience. Curiosity maybe. Tonight was lust."

"Or love," Cam says softly.

"I would have fucked him if he asked," I say, ignoring that four-letter word.

"You mean you would have made love to him."

"Goddamn it, Cam. Don't."

"He might not see it, but I do."

"See what?" I look up at him, my heart pounding in my ears.

"You've been in love with him since that day when we were at uni." A statement, not a question.

"What am I going to do?" I whisper, dread wrapping its bony fingers around my throat.

He shrugs. "You either tell him and see how it plays out, or you go back to how it was before today."

I feel sick. I press my forehead against the marble, breathing hard. "What about you?" I ask, turning to look up at him.

"What about me?"

"Won't it be weird for you?"

He pulls me away from the counter and wraps his arms around me, tucking my head against my shoulder. "I am so goddamn thankful for you and Charlie. I love Jack like a brother, but it won't ever turn into more. I'm proud of you for acknowledging your feelings, and I'll be here for you if you need me. I want you to be happy, Lach."

"You guys are up," Jack says gruffly, pushing into the bathroom, stormy golden eyes making brief contact with mine before sliding to my lips. He stops behind me, holding my gaze in the mirror, muscles flexing as he pulls his hair back. Cam squeezes my arm in encouragement and leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

"What was that?"

"What was what?" I raise my chin, challenging him, my heart beating a thousand miles a minute.

"Cut the bullshit, Lach."

"Did you like it?" I ask, trying to sound flippant but failing miserably.

He growls, ripping open my robe, his gaze in the mirror falling to my cock. "You sure as fuck do."

I nod, resisting the urge to pull the robe from his hands and fold it over myself.

"Do you want to fuck me?"

Why did he have to ask me the one question don't know how to answer? What if I say yes and it ends all of this? What if I say no and it never even starts?

"Tell me the truth, Lach."

I hold his gaze in the mirror, my heart crumbling into a thousand pieces. "Yes," I whisper, my voice breaking, a single tear streaking down my cheek.

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